Day 2: No-Poo

Her smile has become less enthusiastic ...

When I woke up this morning, my hair still looked pretty good from yesterday. I was a little surprised. I expected to wake up with a family of rats nestled in my tresses. But I still looked alright. Far better than I ever did as a teen at Girls' Camp.

I should have stopped there. Should have whipped out the baby powder for the extra greasy spots, combed it a few times, and walked away from the bathroom.

But, I decided to rinse my hair. Big mistake.

See, after rinsing it, I had to blow-dry it. Because it simply WOULDN'T AIR-DRY. Too much oil. My head looked a mess. So I turned on the hair drier, hoping it might produce yesterday's luscious locks after a few minutes.

I wish I had taken a picture to document it for posterity, but a description of what ensued will have to suffice. Just imagine the top of my hair plastered to my scalp, and the rest a dry, frizzy mess.

I scrambled for the baby powder. Frantically sifted it through my hair.

Not ... working (!!!)

Then, I turned on the flat iron. Not to flatten it, but to wave it.

A little more baby powder, a strategic braid in the front to hide my greasy bangs, a little hairspray, and voila! I'm half-way decent again. What fantastic luck.

Tomorrow is going to be a problem, though. See, tomorrow is Sunday, and I play the organ for the congregation at my church. And I can promise the congregation is going to think something's fishy when I'm sitting up there, playing hymns of worship while looking like a bum with dreadlocks. (Maybe I should bring a hat and then people can throw coins in it while I play.)

So, I just might have to bust out Bubby's shampoo (which is semi-acceptable, since it's non-drying and doesn't contain dimethicone). I mean, it's church. I have to look (and smell) presentable in the Lord's house. And my head ... my head is unhappy with me. It's trying to tell me it doesn't want to go through puberty again and to please wash it already.

But I can't give in yet. I'm not a quitter!